Healing Wounds of the Heart
by RgRacingGirl
Summary: A seventeen year old mutant from the Foster Care system somehow finds herself invited to go to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. She leaps at the chance, but has no clue what she has gotten herself into. A small verse gives her all that she wants.
1. Chapter 1

It was just a normal day. That's what I kept telling myself, anyway. Just a normal day in paradise, right? I wish. Unless, of course, you consider five hours worth of chores a day 'paradise'. Then in that case, you're living the dream, my friend.

"Felicity!" Jerry snarled, throwing a wad of newspaper at me. "C'mon, you have to hurry! The Johnsons will be here soon, and I will not have them come in to a dirty house."

In reply, I knew to only nod. Verbal replies were worthless with Jerry. If you said anything back, even just a reply, he would consider it 'talking back' and would backhand you. I'd much rather stay bruise-free for a while, thank you very much.

The glass table squeaked as I wiped a rag along it, covered in Windex glass cleaner. The Windex is good for cleaning glass, yeah, but then you have me using it. With a rag and bare hands. And not to mention cuts on my hands that burned every single time the Windex touched them. No complaining, though. No more bruises.

Upstairs, I could hear somebody moving around. It was either the dog, Soldier, or Gertrude, my foster mother. The foster kid agency did background checks on the to-be foster parents, but they don't do attitude, personality, moral, or ethnic checks. If they did, I would be sent to much nicer homes. These people, the Browns, just use me as a cleaning tool to get money.

After scrubbing the glass table over one more time, I wiped over it smoothly with a dry paper towel before moving to put away the cleaning supplies. The last thing I had to do today before I went to bed was scrubbing the kitchen floor.

That is easily my least favorite chore to do. With how Gertrude, or Trudy if you like, cooks and never cleans up, it is the dirtiest room in the house. No surprise that their bedroom is a close second in that particular race. Their bed is always unmade, which stirs interesting thoughts and conclusions. The floor is covered in empty wrappings, I have no idea how old most of those are, and dirty laundry covers all the other spaces. I don't know how they can sleep in there.

Gertrude walked down the carpet covered stairway, her eyes glaring into the back of my head. "What are you doing?!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up.

I frowned. "What you told me to do…?"

"Don't mouth back at me, young lady! I put a roof over your head!"

Yeah, and I clean it, but that doesn't mean I shove that fact in your face every hour. If she didn't hold it over me so often, then I'd be okay, but man. That's just too much. Too often.

"Sorry-"

She scoffed. "Whatever. Scrub the floor, then throw a load of towels in the washer and start it. I'm out of towels in my bathroom."

I did as I was told, and twenty minutes later, I was putting the wet towels into the washing machine. After pressing the start button, I heard the doorbell ring.

"I'll get it!" Jerry screamed. His pounding footsteps were loud as he ran to the door and opened it, no doubt a large smile on his face. The smile was probably not the most genuine that was ever given.

What happened after he shook the house with his feet was unknown to me. As soon as I was finished with putting the towels in, I headed upstairs to my bedroom. It was the entire attic, but it wasn't like a finished attic.

Cobwebs were spread around the whole perimeter, and before bed every night I had to search my bed to make sure there were no spiders that were going to sleep with me. Sleeping with spiders is not currently on my bucket list, and it never will be on there. Though if it was, I probably would already have crossed it out. No doubt that I have done it already.

A single dresser was placed in the corner of my room, the top covered in dust. If Jerry or Gertrude would let me bring cleaning supplies up here, then my room would be immaculate. But no, those supplies are for downstairs only. Not me.

Unless I'm using them for their benefit. In that case, it's completely alright to use all the supplies I need, and then some.

Rain pattered against my half-cracked window. The sound was oddly calming to my ears. The rain came and went quickly, on a normal day, but today was different. It stayed, for longer than an hour.

Confused, I took out the old radio and plugged it in. The Weather Service was making some big announcement.

"The National Weather Service in Raleigh has issued a severe thunderstorm warning for-"

"Felicity, turn the radio off, dammit!" I heard Jerry scream from downstairs. I believe that the people he was having over for dinner were his bosses. It was obvious how important this dinner was to his career. But it was also dumb how the radio up here will affect on whether or not he gets a fifty cent pay raise.

"Yes, sir!" I called down to him, turning the radio down. Though not completely off. There is nothing better to do up here than listen to people converse on public broadcast. It always feels like the fifties. That's all I can do here.

"- Northern Jasper county in central Virginia-" The radio continued to list of counties in the state. Most of the listed counties were in Central or in North-Central Virginia. Around here, in this small town, we usually don't get rain. It's an odd thing. The towns and cities all around will get poured on, drenched by Mother Nature, but us?

Nada. Nein. Nothing.

As it ended up, I laid down on my bed. The mattress springs creaked as I made shadows appear on my walls, my blinds closed. I pressed my palms together and parted my fingertips, curling some and pressing others apart, till I had made what I was looking for. A dog. A shadow dog.

I smiled softly at the shape. Maybe it's a childish thing to be doing. Making shadows on a wall. But what else is there to do? Listen to the radio? Clean? Maybe eat every once and a while?

Before I knew it, all too soon, I heard Gertrude trodding up to my room. Up the attic ladder.

"Felicity. There are some people here to see you."

That's a new one...


	2. Chapter 2

Somebody, or somebodies, to see me? Now that was a strange idea. I can bet that more than eighty percent of this small town has no idea I exist. Home schooled, never allowed out of the house much. Nobody sees me, besides the few people who decide to come inside this house. Who knew I was here?

After pushing the ladder down, I stepped down and out of the attic only to almost land on my face. Gertrude was standing in the hallway, snickering at me.

"You are such a klutz," she laughed. "It's a wonder how you can clean anything without leaving marks."

Considering that I'm backhanded if I do it wrong, I don't find it much of a shock at all. Though I didn't verbally reply, only with a small nod.

The look she gave me was nothing short of petty and almost braggy. Like she knew that she had total control over me. What I did, where I went, even what I smelled like. It will be such a pleasure to be able to get out of here when I turn eighteen.

Gertrude raised an eyebrow at me before she threw her hand up and started walking away, her usual 'follow me or else' gesture. I complied without question, my bare feet padding against the newly mopped and vacuumed floor. The hallway was hardwood, the living room where we were going was carpeted.

What I saw next surprised me the most.

A man with a short beard, not grey but a dark brown, was sitting on our couch, smoking a cigar. Next to him was a woman with short white hair, olive skin, and pretty eyes. Jerry didn't look too happy that they were sitting there. In our living room.

Gertrude took a seat next to Jerry, almost sitting on his lap. On a normal day, she would have sat on his lap, and he would be kissing her neck to try to get something going. Obviously they weren't going to do that sort of thing, not with company. Jerry's bosses probably already left.

The white haired woman looked at me with a small smile. I didn't understand why her hair was white. She didn't look old, maybe her twenties or thirties, nothing older than that. Her skin was smooth, much better than mine. Bumpy with acne, the average teenage problems.

After a minute of awkward silence between all five of us, the woman spoke. "Are you Felicity Rose?"

Slowly, I nodded. Rose was my middle name, and I chose not to go by my last name. It was not mine to have, and I will not take Jerry and Gertrude's last name. They don't want me to have it either. "Yes, ma'am."

She smiled, as if liking my reply. It was just an answer. And a "ma'am", but isn't that normal to reply with? "My name is Ororo Munroe."

"That's a pretty name," I smiled back at her. It was definitely unique, one I have never heard before. It didn't sound like it was very American, but I can't be the one to talk. My name is more British than anything.

"Thank you," she smiled a little bit brighter. I could somehow sense that she liked me already. I don't know how I could tell, but I just.. Could. A happy vibe, so to speak. "Felicity, we just spoke to your parents-"

"-Foster parents," Gertrude interrupted.

After earning a scowl from the man sitting beside Ororo Munroe, Ororo continued. "- and we have decided that we would love to take you back to our school. Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters."

"I've never heard of it!" Jerry declared, sounding bored and unamused.

The man aside Ororo gave him a glare. "Never will," he said darkly.

Ororo nudged him with her elbow and murmured, "Be nice." Louder, she said, "This is Logan."

"Last name?" Gertrude laughed, not in a very nice way.

"None of your business," Logan rolled his eyes. He didn't seem to be in a good mood, not very happy to be here.

Jerry huffed in annoyance. "If you are even thinking of taking our daughter-"

"-Foster child," Gertrude corrected.

"- foster child, then you better be givin' us full names!" Jerry finished, wrapping an arm around Gertrude.

Logan raised his eyebrows at them, then shot them a wicked smile before holding up a fist. A soft sound of metal unsheathing hit my ears, and before my eyes, I saw three blades emerge from between his knuckles. No doubt sharp and powerful.

"What did you say, again?" His head tilted, his wicked smile not disappearing.

This man. Something about him. That's something interesting.

Ororo elbowed him once more, rolling her eyes at how he was acting. "Hey. Behave," she muttered to him, hardly loud enough for me to hear it, but I could make out her words. Lip reading.

Logan didn't retract the knuckle blades, keeping them out and looking them over with his eyebrows slightly lifted, intrigued by them.

Jerry sighed loudly, over emphasizing the sound, and leaned back against the couch after giving Gertrude a nice kiss on the cheek. "Look. We ain't handing our foster daughter over to you people. We don't know what kind of thing you'd be havin' her do!"

Oh like he would even care. The man can barely remember my middle name.

Gertrude paused before nodding, agreeing with him. "Yeah, we don't know you people."

"And if the foster care agency knew about you two, she wouldn't be here," Ororo said in a slightly amused tone. "I hear you never let her out of the house."

Wait a second. How would they know that?

Jerry gaped at her. "How do you know that?" At least we have the same thought pattern.

"Lucky guess," Logan snickered, finally sliding his blades back into place. Inside his skin. That has to hurt.

I could feel goosebumps appear on my skin as I watched him put the metal back into his body. He didn't have to push them in, but I knew they went in voluntarily. It has to hurt. Human skin shouldn't have to bare that sort of pressure and pain.

He gave me an odd look, raising one eyebrow, but I didn't look back at him. No eye contact. I hardly made eye contact with Ororo either. Making eye contact is never a good thing for me. If I do, it almost breaks me. It makes me feel weird inside, especially with Jerry and Gertrude. Almost never in a good way.

"Lucky guess?" Jerry said mockingly. "You have no proof-!"

Ororo held a hand up, silencing him. "We do have proof, but we won't bring it up. We only ask that Felicity comes with us to Xavier's School. There, she will live and be cared for, as well as learn life skills."

That may or may not come in handy. The life skills. I never imagined actually having a life outside of cleaning homes of my foster families, but stranger things have happened to people. Not me, but it has happened. In books, mostly, though it's rare that I get my hands on some paperback that is readable.

Gertrude snorted, but said nothing.

Jerry, on the other hand, had plenty to say. "Cared for?! She is cared for here! Look at her! Clothes on her back, food in her stomach, a roof over her head-!"

"But that's not really caring for," Ororo interrupted, standing up. "That's barely housing. Caring is something different. Involves love and comfort and-"

"We give her that!" Gertrude cried out, throwing her hands up. This was making her blood pressure rise, I could almost feel it. "We give her all of that! And more!"

Ororo, I noticed, never raised her voice. She stayed with a calm demeanor, something I rarely saw in men and women that came in this house. "You have no proof that you do."

"And you have no proof that we don't!"

"Hey Kid," Logan nodded towards me. All eyes turned to me. "Do they love you?"

No. No no no, do not put me in the limelight like this. Do not. They will- "Do t-they…?" I whispered. It scared me. If I said one thing wrong, then they would kick me out.

Then again, being kicked out at this point is not the worst thing they could do to me.

"Yeah. Do they love you?"

"... No."

Logan smiled and pointed at me. "See? I think we just solved our problem."

Ororo walked over to me with a small smile. "Felicity. Would you like to go with us?"

It took me a minute to think, though I know it shouldn't have. I didn't know these people, but they seemed nice. Ororo did, anyway. Logan might be a little iffy.

Nice people. They promise me a nice room to stay in, food, a roof over my head. Possibly even clothing. That's something I probably would need that I most certainly do not get here.

After that long minute of thinking over, I smiled and nodded. "I would. Definitely."

The idea of getting away from them was internally satisfying, more so than I thought it could be. An idea being satisfying. It sounds crazy, to some people, but to me, it just sounds amazing.

I have never been on an airplane, let alone a 'high-class' jet aircraft, so this was very new to me. It was plenty big in size, especially since there were only three people to travel on it. Ororo, the woman that had first talked to my foster parents, Logan, and myself. To know that these people, who didn't know me, went to this great of lengths to get me out of there and somewhere else made me feel so grateful.

Carefully, I sat my backpack down on a seat and buckled it in, just to be safe. Ororo looked over at me with a small smile, and Logan just rolled his eyes. "It won't fall out, Kid."

Gazing over at him, I frowned. Did he expect me to know that? This was a jet, after all, and from hearing them fly over the house, I just expected that the ride would be very jolting. "Alright…" But I didn't move to unbuckle my bag. I wanted to be sure that was going to be safe the whole ride.

Ororo hit Logan on the shoulder lightly, and murmured something to him. Too far away to her, I was, so I just took a seat and buckled up. Logan tossed me a headset, gesturing for me to put them on. I quickly did as told, and that was when Ororo flipped a few switches on the panel.

"Hang on tight," she said through the headset. We were all wearing them.

My knuckles gripped at the handlebars hooked to both sides of my seat. Before I knew it, my back hit against the backside of my seat hard. I looked up to see how Logan and Ororo reacted. Both looked completely normal, like they were used to this hard jolt. It didn't really shock me. They obviously knew what they were doing.


	3. Chapter 3

I could feel my eyes widen as I looked around. This school was huge. Much bigger than any place I had ever been in, and definitely the most filled one as well. There were long hallways, with dark wood floors and rugs that made the hallways seem much longer than they actually were. Teenagers, most of them around my age or younger, walked around us and into rooms. Dorms, I thought, or even classrooms.

Ororo gave me a gentle look. "Bigger than you expected, Felicity?" It was almost like she knew what I was thinking. Or was my face that obvious?

Nodding, I looked around more, finally my eyes met her face. "Much bigger than I expected…" Schools weren't usually this big, were they? And from the outside, this doesn't look much like a school. More like a very nice sized mansion of some sort.

She laughed, keeping an arm around my shoulders as we walked the long hallways. She didn't say much more to me, allowing me to explore the place with my eyes. Finally, she led me into an office. A man in a wheelchair sat at a desk, looking up at us.

"Ah," he said, rolling out from under the desk. He pushed the wheels with his hands, rolling towards us and actually right in front of me. "You must be Felicity Rose."

He knows my name. Must be the headmaster. "That's me," I said softly, smiling down at him. It wasn't really a forced smile. I was happy to be here, out of that horrid house. Thankful to anybody who had something to do with me being here.

He chuckled, holding out a hand. "No need to thank us, dear."

What…? He… What?

I shook his hand, tilting my head in complete confusion. "What do you mean?"

A smile reached his lips once more. "I said 'No need to thank us'. It is our pleasure to have yet another student roam our halls."

"But… I didn't thank you…" My, that must of sounded very rude. Nice first impression, Lissie.

He flat out laughed at what I said. Must have been what I said. "Yes, you'll be a nice addition to the school, Miss Rose."

I laughed, a bit awkward, and also a bit forced. This man is already confusing me. "What..? I'm confused, sir…"

"I'm a telepath, Felicity."

That explains a lot. But… No privacy… So it'll be just like back at home. That's not so bad.

He smiled. "Always the optimist…"

Ororo, or as most of them called her Storm around here, let me into a different hallway. She used a key to open the door to my new room. Inside, there was a twin sized bed, a nice wood dresser, a heater, and a large window. Lots of natural lighting in that room.

I set my bag gently on my bed, stepping over to look out the window. Out the window was a beautiful view of some sort of garden. There were flowers, a fountain, benches. It looked so beautiful…

Storm stood beside me, following my gaze. "You like the garden?"

I nodded. "Yeah… I like flowers."

"That makes sense. Felicity Rose."

Chuckling, I nodded again. "Mm… A lot of people say that, you know?" Not a total lie. Three people have said that to me in the past year. That's a lot, considering I never used to see people very often.

"It doesn't surprise me."

I hummed. "Yeah… So, what's your power?" I asked curiously. Was she a telepath, like that man was? The Professor?

Storm smiled. "Can you guess by my name?"

"Storm…. You can create storms?" I guessed. Maybe this was all just a huge blonde moment for me.

She laughed, a nice sound. "Kind of. I can control the weather. Storms included."

"Oh," I nodded in my understanding. That made sense. "But why Storm specifically? Why not…. Sunny, or something?"

This time, she shrugged. "When the professor first found me, I was an orphan on the streets in New York. I wasn't happy, so it was always raining. Thunder. Lightning. All except for what was around me. The Eye of the Storm is what he called me, but then he shortened it to just Storm. The name stuck, I guess."

That does make me wonder. Her story is probably not unheard of around here. Maybe my past isn't so different from everybody else's after all. Maybe I'm just like they all are, with the troubled past and the now brighter looking future. This school could change my life for the better. It already has.

The mess hall was more crowded than I had expected for the breakfast hour. It was seven in the morning, and yet all of the tables were filled with students. The smell of the room itself was almost sickening. So many different smells put together. Bacon, sausage, pancakes, waffles, burnt toast, regular toast, eggs, blueberries, and much more. All of that filled my nose, almost making me gag.

After a minute of looking around, I grabbed a tray before getting in line. There were so many students here. The line was long, but thankfully moved fast. Before I knew it, I was starting to have a choice in what to eat.

In less than five minutes, I had a good amount of food on my tray, and a small bottle of juice to go with it instead of milk. My eyes traveled around the room to find a place for me to sit. I didn't know anybody here. Storm and the rest of the teachers were all sitting together, but if I sat with them, I would instantly be labeled as some teacher's pet. Is that a bad thing?

Storm finally caught my eye and waved at me. "Felicity, you want to sit with us?"

A few students heard her voice and looked over. For the first time, they saw me. First impressions were never a good thing with me. I somehow always messed up. But they looked at me, then just turned away. No looks of disgust.

I'm off to a great start here.

After making my way over to Storm and the teachers, I sat down, placing my tray in front of me. Storm frowned, but didn't comment. Maybe she didn't like what was on my tray.

As I started eating, slowly to savor all that I had, the teachers started conversing among themselves. For a few moments, I just sat and listened, eating, but then the conversations started to get a bit boring. At least now, I knew what their names were.

Scott was the man with the glasses. The shades had a reddish-brown tint to them, and to tell you the truth, they looked unique. He didn't look too old, maybe in his twenties or thirties. He had one of those faces that you couldn't tell.

Sitting across from him, with nobody sitting next to him, was Logan. The man that had helped get me here. I did have my doubts about him, though. He kept to himself, unless his opinion seemed bold enough to share. Which was often, in this case. He ate like some animal, and it all didn't seem to go anywhere. He was pure muscle, only restrained by the clothing he wore.

They seem to be the only teachers. There are less than a hundred students here, so it isn't too unrealistic. The Professor probably does a bit of teaching as well, maybe some one-on-one training.

Storm, after a good few minutes, brought me into the conversation. "So, Felicity, what are you looking forward to the most here?"

What an open question. So many possibilities. "Oh. Um… It's… I'm not sure, actually." Probably the wrong answer. "I like that I have a nice bed, I guess." What a dumb thing to say. How stupid am I? Extremely.

Scott snickered. "Really? That's what you're happiest about, being here?"

"Scott, be nice," Storm said softly, looking over at him. Though her eyes didn't match her tone. More like a 'back off now' to her eyes, instead of the gentle of her tone.

He put his hands up in the air, like an 'I surrender' motion. "Fine, fine."

"You sayin' you didn't have a bed, where you used to live?" Logan asked, raising an eyebrow at me questioningly.

I shrugged. "I guess you could call it a bed… But I like this bed much better. I got a very nice sleep on this bed." Talking about beds. Not exactly how I pictured my first day at this school, but it was a start, for sure.

"What'd you sleep on?"

"A thirty or something year old mattress. The springs hurt."

Storm frowned, obviously not liking my old living conditions. "They had you sleep on a mattress that old?"

"Well, yeah," I nodded. "They liked to keep the money to themselves. I was lucky to get clothes, most of the time."

"Really?"

"Really."

Why did they sound so shocked? It could have been worse.


	4. Chapter 4

"Okay, are you ready to begin?"

"If I say no, will we begin anyway?"

"Obviously."

"Then yes. I'm ready to begin."

The Professor laughed as he took out a piece of paper from a desk drawer. The paper had a picture of me in the top left hand corner, and then a lot of words at the bottom. It was only logical to assume that it was my report. My file. Something of that sort.

He read over the paper before sliding it over to me. "Today, we'll just be talking. Does that sound alright with you?"

I nodded. Even if I said no, I thought, he'd make us talk. Or communicate through thoughts or something. "What will we talk about?"

"Even though I'm well aware of your past, I make a point to learn it exactly from the student's perspective. All that they see fit to tell me," he explained, folding his hands on the top of the desk. "It is a way to connect with each student individually, in a way they believe is comfortable."

Fair enough. I only tell him what I want to tell him. But because he is a mind reader, what exactly do I have to hide? He knows everything already. Might as well verbally spill all those beans right now. "Where do you want me to start...?"

He smiled. "Wherever you want."

Of course he gives me an option. For the first time in my life, I have a choice of what to do. Where to begin, where to tell all. But how do I begin?

I took a deep breath. this would not be a short session. "I'll just start in the beginning, I guess..." Nothing to hide, Felicity. Nothing. To. Hide. "When I was a baby, I got deathly sick. My parents were young, and weren't wealthy. In order to get me the care that I needed, they decided to give me up for adoption. After I got treated, and a little bit better, nobody wanted to adopt me. I wasn't exactly the cutest baby ever."

"I would have to disagree. But go on."

"Right... Anyway, I was put on the foster care route. It was not the happiest point ever. The families barely fed me and didn't care for me that thoroughly, so I was always stinky and dirty. After a few months of one family, they'd pass me along to another. I felt like a potato in that 'Hot Potato' game."

That made him chuckle. Nice to know somebody found my past funny, or at least the way I explained it.

"When I was old enough to talk and do things, the families I went to took advantage of it. I did all sorts of chores, and even babysitting. I could care for an infant at age eight, and cook full meals. It was not the glory life."

I smiled. The good part of my life. "When I was ten, I finally found a home I thought I'd be in forever. The couple wasn't young, but they weren't old old. Mid forties. The man owned this motorcycle shop, and the wife was a hairstylist. Every night, the man would take me out to the garage and teach me all about the bikes... After a few months with them, they brought up adoption. I got really excited. I was finally going to belong somewhere. One day, when I was at school, I got called to the principal's office. They got in a car accident. Fatal."

Do not cry, Felicity. This could be worse. I've had it good. Better than most. It's nothing to cry over. Do not cry in front of him. You're stronger than this.

"I was put right back on the list of foster kids. I spent a good amount of time with the other kids in the foster house, but then a couple decided to take me in. 'Give it a trial run', they called it. And those people were Gertrude and Jerry, the man and woman that had me last. They were by far the worst."

The Professor sucked in a breath. I didn't understand why. He already knew what had happened. It was no different out loud than it was by reading my mind, my thoughts, my memories.

He interrupted my thoughts. Ha. "I'm surprised that... You have that mindset."

I frowned. "What mindset?"

"You believe that you had it good. That it could have been worse. You don't sulk like most children would. Why is that?" he asked.

Because I didn't have it the worst. Because I saw it be worse for others. I'm here, aren't I? "I had it good compared to the others. To some of my old friends back at the foster house. They had it rougher than rough," I said.

He raised his eyebrows. "One more thing that I noticed..."

"Hm?"

"You never mentioned your power. Using it."

Oh that... "I don't feel comfortable... Trying to explain it... I hardly know what it is or how to use it."

He smiled softly, one of the first smiles in this entire session. "Would you like to know what you can do?"

"Yes." Obviously.

He paused, thinking up a way to explain, I would guess. "This is what I believe. You have the power to control organic cells. That is a large range. Any organic cells. Plants, humans, animals-"

"Humans are animals," I butted in.

He laughed. "True enough. But any organic matter or cell, you can easily mutate and reshape and control."

That's... Cool? Sure. Could have been a bit better, or easier. Or less powerful. I don't need power. I don't need a power. But if it's what got me here, out of that house, I'm grateful for that. "Any organic cell or matter? Did that have something to do with-"

"Your illness as an infant. Your body was, in some technological term, malfunctioning. You didn't know what you were doing. In a way, you were accidentally harming yourself," he explained slowly. "And all illnesses after. Your body would go on overdrive and you'd exhaust yourself after healing from something."

"Right. So I can control organic cells, but I can't get this dang acne off my face?"

He laughed. It was a nice laugh. What is it with all the nice laughs around here? All I have is a stupid snort and the dumbest giggle ever. "You'll fit right in here."

I smiled. "Good. I don't plan on leaving."


	5. Chapter 5

That nice little chat with the Professor helped ease me into this. Now, I knew what my power was. Not what it could do, that would come later, he told me. My classes would be decided tomorrow based on what I can do so far. In other words, I'll have to start at the bottom. I have no idea how to use my powers.

I walked back to my room after the conversation. After unlocking the door, I slid it open and walked inside. I didn't bother to lock the door again as I sat down on my bed, looking out the window.

My power could control organic cells. That includes cells inside me, doesn't it? Would that mean that I can control what every cell in my body does? It sounds strange, really. It seems like a person can already control what their body does, but not to that full extent.

With that power, so much could be done. Now that I thought about it, it almost scared me. So much power. I could really mess something up with that. I could accidentally hurt somebody. I could accidentally hurt myself. Do I really want this? I didn't ask to have this.

All those thoughts in my head made my head hurt. Headaches are common for me after thinking too hard for too long. Deciding to ease my mind, I walked out of my room, again not bothering to lock it. There's nothing to steal. Nothing that's really worth stealing.

I made my way down to the gardens. As I walked out the door, I was instantly hit with the smell of sweet flowers. It was an amazing smell, really.

Not many students were free at this time of day. Most were in classes. The more advanced students, late teenagers only, went to danger room sessions at this time. The Professor didn't go with them, but I know Storm did. She only taught that class in mornings. The Professor had told me that once I know and learn to use my power, I'll join those sessions.

This school really is amazing.

As I walked in the garden, I found that even though it was fall, there were all types of flowers growing. Lillis. Roses. Daffodils. Not a single weed in sight. It was remarkable.

I felt like something bad would happen if I touched something, so I sat on a wood bench near a flower bed of lilies.

There was a light breeze that shifted the flowers. One of the lilies lost a petal in that breeze. Sad. Maybe... Just maybe...

I stood up. The lily was in the front. I cupped my hand around it. How does this work? Does it just... Happen?

I removed my hand. Nothing.

Signing, I stepped back.

"You won't do it that way."

I quickly turned around. It was Logan. Wolverine. What was he doing here? I placed my hands on my hips. "How do you suppose I do it...?"

He hummed. "It doesn't just happen. You have to will it to happen. Focus. Concentrate."

"How?"

"Everybody is different. Your mutation is one of a kind. You'll have to find out for yourself." With that, he turned and walked off.

I'll have to find out for myself. That sounds like it'll end up taking a while. Well, it's not like I have much else planned today.

Carefully, I cupped my fingers around the lily. I closed my eyes. Heal. It can heal. Just regrow the cells needed from the others. It can heal. Heal...

My fingers tingled. I lifted my hand up. The lily looked...

Good as new.

I felt a hand be placed on my shoulder. "Good job, Kid." Then, the hand went away. He hadn't left.


	6. Chapter 6

I was the new girl in class now. The girl that has to make a good first impression, or else it will haunt you for the rest of your life. Or the next week or so. I'll go with the latter. After all, this is high school.

"Alright class, let's get started, hm?" The Professor wheeled himself to the front of the room, right next to a television screen. It was one of those newer flatscreens. How they get the money, I'll never know. "Here, you see an equation. Who can tell me what this equation means?"

Instantly, a boy next to me raised his hand. He seemed very impatient, waving his hand in the air, wanting the Professor to notice him. Sadly, that didn't happen.

"Kitty?"

"It's the equation of two parents' chromosomes that result in the X gene," the girl, maybe a bit younger than me, answered. This girl seemed like she knew fully what she was talking about.

An X gene. What exactly is that?

The Professor, as soon as that thought hit my mind, looked over at me. "Felicity?"

I looked up at him. "Yes?" I tilted my head. Wait...

"Do you have a question?"

"... Oh! Um, yes. What is the X gene...?"

The class broke out into snickers. Was it stupid that I didn't know what the X gene was? It sounded like I should know it. They can't exactly expect me to know things that you only learn at this school. Or even school in general.

"The X gene is the genetic mutation that allows a human to have a mutation. In your case, your ability to mutate organic cells and organic matter into whatever you please," he explained in a very calm, gentle tone. "That single gene in your chromosomes allows you to have that specific mutation."

Oh. So that's what the infamous X gene is. That makes sense.

"Now, who can tell me if there is another equation for finding the X gene in a single person's genetic makeup?" the Professor questioned, looking around.

With this class, there was no hiding. He could hear your thoughts. If you had a question, he called on your before you could even raise your hand. If you knew the right answer, he would call on your, still without you having to raise your hand. Even if you had the wrong answer, he'd call on you, just to help you find the real answer yourself. He thought that made you learn it and remember it more.

A girl with a white stripe through the front of her hair raised her hand. "It's not the only equation for the X gene," she said after he called on her. "Isn't there another equation, one that is unknown?"

"If it is unknown, Rogue, then how come we know it is unknown?" a guy next to her laughed.

The Professor shook his head. "It is unknown the specific equation and variables, but there is more than one equation to make up the X gene, Bobby."

"Oh..." he said softly. Bobby.

Rogue smiled, happy to have answered that question correctly.

I frowned. "How come you know there's another equation, or equations, that make up the X gene mutation, but you don't know the equations?"

The Professor sighed. "We have attempted to look into it, but we have not had any luck as of yet. There is one man who is currently working to end our confusion, but he is busy with the United States government right now."

"I have another question," I said slowly.

"Oh?"

"How can you tell the difference between a mutant with the X gene from that equation-" I pointed to the television screen. "- and a mutant that comes from a totally different equation with the same result?"

He smiled. "Well, I am glad you asked, Felicity. Did you all hear Felicity's question?"

Everybody nodded or murmured some form of 'yes'.

"A mutant that comes from that specific equation, the one you see on the television, is coming from a home, or merely conceived by, two parents who are not of the X gene, but compatible with it. Mutants that are coming from equations other than that one are often times more powerful, their capabilities practically limitless. We don't know of the specifics yet, but I believe it has to do with the past bloodline."

That makes a bit of sense... "A powerful mutant with almost limitless power comes from other equations? How can you tell, though? Outwardly?"

"That, Felicity, is a mystery that we have yet to solve."


End file.
